Preface: I understand that these comments are well-meant and designed to bring comfort. I hear the heart of the speaker. And I am thankful for their love and caring. This post is meant to inform, not to make anyone feel bad for anything they may or may not have said.

Currently, I am doing my best to not regret putting out my birth story in public form. Why? Because of 7 deadly words: "At least you had a healthy baby." Because this is not all that matters. A healthy baby needs a healthy mother.

Every birth is different, just as every woman is different. And every woman has different desires and expectations of her birth experience. Birth is not just where the baby comes into the world; birth creates a mother, too, and bring them both face-to-face.

The birth of Bean was something I had planned for a long time. And I'm not talking the 10 month duration of the pregnancy, not the several months before of trying to conceive, not even the few years that I have been an adult. I have had my perfect home birth planned since I was 13 or 14. That is over half my life. I planned my baby's birth like most girls plan their weddings.

I watched "A Baby Story" on TLC religiously with my mom. Most births were in hospitals, with women on their backs, screaming and crying in pain. Some were in birth centers, where women seemed more relaxed and comfortable, and were able to move around more. Very few were at home with midwives, giving birth in inflatable pools. The peace that these women had, even through the worst part of labor, seemed to emanate from them. There was always something tense about the hospital labors to me. I knew back then that a home birth was what I wanted, and what I would have if I could help it.

One of the first things I did when I found out I was pregnant was search out a local midwife. Unfortunately, there are not many in the state of Kentucky, due to midwifery being neither legal nor illegal. I finally found a mother's group in my area (who have been amazing, by the way), and contacted the director, asking if she knew any local midwives. She emailed me back with the name and phone number of the midwife who had delivered her youngest child at the time, with highest praise. As soon as I got off of work, I called the midwife, and felt an immediate connection over the phone. Since it was October, and I was living in Virginia until December, we agreed to meet once I moved to Kentucky, and would see my then-current OB for the first few check-ups.

My pregnancy, though for the most part healthy, had a very rocky start. After talking to my mom, I found out that both my mother and my maternal grandmother also had severe morning sickness well into their second trimesters. Once the morning sickness wore off, I did not get the second trimester rush of energy, but I was still able to work out, cook, and clean most of the time.

Nearing the end of my fairly healthy, fairly normal pregnancy, our midwife asked us to complete some paperwork, including the Emergency Plan, which included the name, address, and phone number of the nearest hospital, directions to our house from the ambulance station, and name and number of our back-up doctor. I literally scoffed when I filled out the blanks on that page. We aren't going to need this, I thought, I've got this, I'm going to beast this birth. I wasn't so naive as to think that nothing could happen, but I was confident nothing would.

In a matter of minutes, we went from our midwife telling Bear to get ready to catch his baby to our baby being born in a room full of strangers, with the only person in the room who loved him out cold on the table. If that is not traumatic, I don't know what is.

And this is just my story. It was traumatic for Bear, too. That's right, partners experience birth trauma, too. He had to watch me in pain for hours, only to be rushed off in an ambulance and be separated during the surgery. He did not get to see his son being born, did not get to catch him or cut his cord. He had to wait on edge while the OB on call finished putting me back together, with no word on how I was doing.

Then we both had to deal with the guilt of having him in the hospital. Bean was born perfectly healthy, but was immediately put on antibiotics. 2 days later, when we were going to be released the next day, the pediatrician on call informed us that his white blood cell count had skyrocketed and they would have to have him on IV antibiotics for a full week. She told us that he had contracted something in the hospital, but because he was already on antibiotics, they had no way of telling what. Had we been at home, he would not have been put on antibiotics and had to have a new IV placed every other day, and he most likely would not have contracted anything.

Birth trauma (I promise, it's a thing) does not have to be accompanied or brought on by a cesarean section. Any woman or couple who experience a different birth than expected can end up with birth trauma. Similarly, a woman can have a very peaceful and fulfilling cesarean section with little or no emotional damage. It breaks my heart to hear friends tell me that they cannot tell others their birth story because it's still too hurtful to them, and they know the response is going to be, "At least you have a healthy baby."

I hope and pray that my friends are right, that one day I will be able to fully heal from this emotional pain. This is a "one step forward, two steps back" process. I have my good days and my very dark days. I am still at risk for Post-Partum Depression, even more so with my history of clinical depression. These feelings have nothing to do with how I feel about my son. I count my blessings every day, and he is at the top, whether it's a good day or bad. I enjoy and treasure every moment we have together, I cherish every sweet memory that is made, I love him like I've never loved another human being. If you ask me how I am, and I respond, "Okay," what I most likely mean is, "I'm sad today, but I'm afraid of what you'll say and how you will judge me if I tell you the truth."

Bottom line (and I apologize for the somewhat scattered nature of this post), if someone tells you they had a traumatic birth experience,tell them that you are sorry they are hurting, and, if you are willing to help them, let them know. Please don't invalidate their feelings by telling them they have a healthy baby.